


A Question of Trust

by ragingrainbow



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Community: kink_bingo, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Drag Queen, Femdom, Feminization, Gender Play, Humiliation, Kink Meme, Kinks, M/M, Other, Riding Crop, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingrainbow/pseuds/ragingrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Tommy’s breath hitches when she opens the door - holy </i>fuck<i> - they had discussed outfits briefly but he hadn’t been expecting </i>this<i>. Raja’s gorgeous, totally smoking hot, and that corset, that skirt, and the heels and, fuck, that </i>crop<i> she’s holding just makes him want to drop to his knees at her feet right off the bat.</i></p><p> (Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/149647">A Question of Lust</a>, but it works on its own.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Brown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Brown/gifts).



> Especially for valress - for [this prompt](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=1182628#t1182628) at glam_kink.. Also using this for my Gender Play Kink Bingo square.
> 
>  
> 
> _Want visual aids for Tommy’s outfit? I pictured something like[this](http://i1196.photobucket.com/albums/aa401/ragingrainbow/Light-Pink-One-Piece-Lolita-Dress1.jpg) with [these](http://i1196.photobucket.com/albums/aa401/ragingrainbow/11403013_21.jpg) and [these](http://i1196.photobucket.com/albums/aa401/ragingrainbow/th_7046C4A81.jpg). But nothing is described in great detail, so you can make up your own visuals if you want. Also, yes, [diamond butt plugs](http://www.bondara.co.uk/rosebud-butt-plug) are real, in case anyone doubts me. :3_

Tommy turns off the engine and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, willing his hands to stop shaking. He’s been nervous all day - hell, ever since he first realized that they were really going to do this - which seems silly when he is about to live out one of his biggest fantasies. Still, he _is_ nervous, and he already feels so vulnerable.

He gets out of the car. He focuses on the sound of his boots on the tarmac, tries to keep his step confident as he makes his way to her door. They say you can make yourself feel confident by acting it. At least he’s pretty sure they say that.

By the time he reaches her door he thinks that if anyone ever actually said that, they’re an idiot. He feels no less anxious. But, underneath the blanket of fear is excitement, and even though he hesitates before ringing the doorbell, the excitement wins out.

Tommy’s breath hitches when she opens the door - holy _fuck_ \- they had discussed outfits briefly but he hadn’t been expecting _this_. Raja’s gorgeous, totally smoking hot, and that corset, that skirt, and the heels and, fuck, that _crop_ she’s holding just makes him want to drop to his knees at her feet right off the bat.

She smiles, all coy and seductive, as if she can read his every thought. Maybe she can. Maybe he’s fucking drooling, he can’t be totally sure right now.

“Tommy,” she says, and the tone makes him drop his gaze, has him fighting the increasing urge to kneel. “Punctual, I like that.”

He smiles shakily, manages a polite ‘thank you’ as she opens the door wider to let him in.

She traps him with her gaze when she’s closed the door, crowds him up against the wall, the crop brushing against his leg. He shudders, biting back a whimper, his gaze flickering between her face and the opposite wall a few times, before he bows his head and relaxes against her body.

“Good boy,” she praises, her hand coming up to rest against his cheek, caressing him before it slips under his chin to force his face back up. She kisses him, slow and deliberate, and he melts into it, lets her lead and take whatever she wants.

“ _Very_ good boy,” she grins slyly as she pulls away. “I left your outfit in my bedroom. You have five minutes, put it on then wait for me on the bed.”

\---

Tommy has to take a few deep breaths again as he makes it to the bedroom. He isn’t exactly nervous anymore, excitement has the upper hand now, but he still feels tense, can hear his own hurried heart beat.

He glances at the clothes laid out on the bed, sees pink and lace and ruffles and oh God it’s so perfectly within his specifications. He peels off his own clothes with shaking hands, folds them neatly and puts them down on the chair at the foot of the bed.

He picks up the panties first, runs his fingers over the white silk and lace. He steps into them carefully, gasps softly when the material makes contact with his hardening dick. He can’t help glancing at himself in the mirror once they’re on, seeing the way his cock and balls strain against the soft fabric. Fuck, it looks good. He wonders fleetingly why he’s never done this before, on his own, in secret.

He does the stockings next, and they’re so soft against his smooth skin - he shaved before he came here, as instructed. Another thing he has never done before. Another thing he should have done before. Another thing he definitely will do again.

He takes another long, steadying breath as he picks up the dress. He struggles for a moment as he pulls it over his head, there are layers to the skirt and it’s all unfamiliar, nothing like pulling on a shirt, but once it’s on it fits perfectly. Luckily it zips on the side, he’s not sure he could have managed to zip himself up had it been in the back.

He smooths the skirt over his hips and takes another moment to stare at himself in the mirror. The fabric is rough against the smooth skin of his thighs, but he _likes_ it. He turns this way and that for a moment, appraising the way the dress clings in all the right places, even hides his little beer belly.

He turns away from the mirror, sits on the edge of the bed and picks up the shoes off the floor. He eyes the heels warily, they’re not that high, but he’s still not sure he can walk in them, the heels don’t even look like they should be able to support his weight. It’s always been beyond him how women walk in these things.

He stands up and takes a few tentative steps once he has them on, just to make sure. He sways a little, somewhat imbalanced, but at least he doesn’t fall flat on his ass. Raja promised to show him how to balance in the damn things anyway, so Tommy just hopes she’ll hold true to that promise.

He turns back to the bed, there is a collar in the same material as the dress, and he hesitates for a moment before he picks that up, too. He puts it on slowly, runs his fingers over it once it’s in place. He likes it, the way it feels, gentle pressure on sensitive skin, he almost wishes it was leather, more sturdy.

He sits on the bed, moves a little towards the middle and kneels where he can spread the skirt out around himself. He takes a moment to arrange the ruffled fabric, and he’s just about done and settled when he hears her heels click against the wooden floor in the hallway.

He centers on that steady click as she draws closer, keeps his head bowed and lets her steady step guide his breathing. He realizes that he’s clenching his fists and quickly unclenches them, flattens his palms against the soft fabric of the dress.

She walks right up to the edge of the bed, and stops there. His eyes are level with her crotch, and he can’t take it, wants to look away, but he keeps still, eyes obediently lowered. It’s a test, he knows, and he’s determined to pass.

“Pretty, pretty, girl,” she says eventually, cupping his chin gently to make him look up. He shudders as she moves her thumb to stroke against his lower lip, and then again as she leans down to give him a quick kiss.

“Come sit on the edge for me,” she instructs, before she moves to pick a few items off of the dresser.

He tries his best to be graceful as he moves to the edge of the bed, even with her back turned. He crosses his legs carefully, makes sure the skirt falls nicely over his legs, and folds his hands in his lap. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror before she comes back into his field of vision. He looks different, demure even.

She puts the makeup down beside him on the bed, tuts and goes to turn on the bedside light before she grasps his chin in one hand and gets to work. Her touch is familiar, calming, reminiscent of so many times in various dressing rooms, sometimes even on tour buses and in hotel rooms. The silence is unusual, however, Sutan normally keeps up a steady stream of chatter while he works, but Tommy finds that he doesn’t mind much. He likes the silence right now, it helps to settle him, helps him match his breath to hers so he can keep his nerves in check. And if he’s breathing a little quicker by the time the last stroke of pink stains his lips, well, that’s only because she is, too.

“There,” she says, tilting his head this way and that to inspect her work. “Perfect. Very, very pretty. Look at yourself.” She steps to the side and indicates to the mirror.

Tommy looks, and for a moment he’s completely thrown, barely recognizes himself. Sure it’s still him, but his face is so much softer, all the feminine lines that normally are a mere suggestion skillfully highlighted. He’s always thought of makeup as a mask, not necessarily used to hide yourself but sometimes to bring out who you really are on the inside. For a few moments he’s not quite sure if he’s hiding right now or merely bringing out a new side of his inner self.

He’s pulled away from his reflection when she tells him to stand up, and he does so, carefully, still feeling unsteady in the heels. She instructs him to take a few steps forward and he does, stops abruptly when she taps her crop against his chest.

She walks around him - and he fleetingly thinks that he has new appreciation for how she balances in those killer stilettos - stops behind him and presses up close, breath ghosting against his ear.

“I’m a little disappointed now. We made you so pretty, but you don’t look very elegant at all.”

He blushes, sudden and instant red heat filling his face, creeping along his neck. She laughs, mirthful, kisses his pulse right behind his ear and makes his breath hitch.

“You’re so _easy_ , Tommy Joe. It’s no wonder Adam always stalks you on stage, pretty, easy little thing.”

He makes a protesting noise, not really sure why he’s even trying to cling to dignity at this stage, especially not when her words are so totally true. She slaps the crop against his hip with a stern ‘shush’, and he goes quiet again.

“Right, now, you need to take _small_ steps, keep your legs together and don’t put so much weight on your heel. And keep your head up and your shoulders straight. Slouching isn’t elegant, and it doesn’t help your balance, either. Try again.”

He concentrates harder this time, tries to apply all her instructions as he takes a few tentative steps forward. He yelps as the crop slaps against his hip - cushioned by the skirt and not really painful, but it took him by surprise.

“Confidence, _girl_ , confidence.”

Tommy takes a steadying breath, wills his heart to calm down a bit and takes a few more steps, easing into it, feeling a little more balanced. It gets easier as her praise washes over him, helping him adjust to his new center of gravity.

“Very good,” she praises, pulling him close. He goes easily, lets his back be pulled flush against her chest.

She drops her crop onto the bed, pulls him even tighter to herself before she snakes a hand underneath his skirt. He whimpers when she brushes her fingers against his smooth thighs, sags against her as she strokes him through the soft material of the panties.

“Oh my, I have a little slut on my hands, do I? You sure had me fooled with your blushing virgin act.” She squeezes, straddling the line between pleasure and pain perfectly, and he can’t help the broken moan that escapes him. She laughs and nips his shoulder.

“Well in _that_ case, I think I should give you what a little slut deserves, hm?” She moves her hand around to his ass, slides it into the back of the panties and teases a finger along his crack. He shudders, moans again as the finger teases around his hole.

“Oh, you’d like that, would you?” She pushes him forward, guides him over to the dresser and makes him bend over, arms resting on the cool wood.

“Look in the mirror,” she directs as she hitches his skirt up.

He is confused for a moment as he looks up, but then he focuses on the reflection and realizes that he can see himself reflected in the full length wardrobe mirror, he can see _everything_ as she stands beside him and lifts his skirt. A blush creeps up from his neck again as she pulls his panties off and tells him again what a slut he is for letting her do it. Fuck, he _is_ easy.

He stares at himself in the mirror as she spreads his cheeks and pushes a now lubed finger inside him. She pushes more fingers in in fast succession and it’s too much, too soon - it’s been a long time since he had anything more than his own fingers in his ass - but he still moans and grinds back wantonly, the pain morphing to pleasure as it skitters up his spine.

“Oh yeah, you like that, don’t you?”

Tommy can only whine in response, pushing back against her hand, chasing after the pain-edged pleasure. He drops his head down on his arms, but snaps it back up quickly as she slaps him.

“Keep looking. I’m not done with you yet, little bitch.”

He looks, his eyes going wide as she produces a plug, deliberately showing it off. It’s not very big, he knows he can easily take it, but it’s silver and it’s got a fucking pink diamond on it. He’s not sure how he feels about adorning his ass with jewelry. Plus, he was expecting to get fucked within the next few minutes and this doesn’t mesh with his plans. He keens as she lubes it up and presses it against him, but she just hushes him, presses her free hand against his back to hold him still. He groans as it slips into place.

It’s sort of pretty, he has to admit, when the mirror reflects the way it glints in the light. His nerves are creeping back in now though, this wasn’t part of what he expected, he thought she would just dress him up, humiliate him a little, fuck him boneless. Not that he had objected to anything else, in fact he had sort of given her a free pass to do whatever she wanted to him. He’s not sure if he regrets it now, he doesn’t like the feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen.

“Pretty, huh?” She traces a finger around the base, moves her hand down to cup his balls as she keeps speaking. “Perfect for little sluts like you, makes your ass all pretty and inviting.”

He whimpers, his hips automatically rocking forward into her hand, and she grins at him in the mirror, moves her hand again to give him a few nice strokes. The plug feels weird as it shifts inside him, he’s played with toys before, but they’ve always been rubber and the metal is a foreign sensation, hard and unyielding.

“You’re so beautiful, so good for me,” she praises as she removes her hand, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He flushes pink at her approval, catches her satisfied smile before he lowers his eyes.

“Now, let’s see if you remember what I taught you. Stand up.”

He follows her command automatically, concentrates hard on standing up straight, the heels a challenge now as his knees feel wobbly. He eyes the crop nervously as she picks it back up, not sure that he’s going to be able to walk now, already apprehensive of the possible threat of punishment if he fails her.

“Into the living room. Off you go.” She taps the crop against his back, gently, and it feels a bit like a warning, an incentive for him to do his best.

His first steps are careful, almost off balance enough to land him on his ass, but he manages to right himself, body trembling with nerves and the spikes of sensation from the plug inside him. The crop taps against his hip and he shudders, bites back a whine and a ‘please’ and an ‘I can’t’ all at once.

“Shoulders straight, legs together, small steps, come on, you can do it.”

He’s distinctly aware of how stilted his walk is, of the way his body trembles and jerks as he struggles to balance. The crop brushes him a few times, and he blushes as he almost falls - twice - but he does it, he makes it all the way without falling and is rewarded as she pulls him close.

She lifts her hand - the one holding the crop - closes her fingers around his throat, gentle pressure to force his head back. The crop rests against his chest as he arches back against her, and he whimpers as the pressure increases, so close to restricting his breathing.

She nips at his ear, tongue snaking out to tease his piercings, and he shudders, thinks that he probably shouldn’t have told her all his most sensitive spots before putting himself at her mercy. She chuckles, pulls him closer and grinds against him, and holy shit he’d almost forgotten about her cock, but now it’s right fucking _there_ , digging into his hip.

“Gonna fuck you, Tommy Joe,” she purrs. “Fuck you nice and hard. That’s what you like, isn’t it? What you’ve been begging me for all along, little slut.”

Tommy breaks then, rocks back against her with a stream of “yes” and “want” and “ _please_ ”; and this, _this_ is exactly what he needs and he’s so so grateful that she didn’t settle for fucking him over the dresser, that he was right to trust her to give him everything he wanted and that much more.

“Easy, baby, easy.” Her voice is gentler now, as is her touch as she guides him forward, and he is only hazily aware of being pushed up against a pole - stripper pole, he’d made fun of it last time he was here, and she’d pointedly told him it could be very useful - of being restrained and manipulated into the right position, bent forward, legs parted.

She keeps talking to him as she prepares herself, and it makes no sense to him beyond words like ‘good’ and ‘pretty’, but he lets them wash over him, lets himself settle into the comfortable knowledge that she’s pleased with him, that he’s played his role well and she’s going to reward him.

He keens softly as she pulls the plug free, and she shushes him, one hand rubbing calming circles on his back. For a moment he feels strangely empty and then she’s there, her cock pressing into him, warm and big, and he moans and pushes back to take more of her.

She puts one hand above his on the pole to brace herself, wraps her other arm around him as she starts thrusting, hard and punishing and bordering on painful but so, so good. He rocks back to meet her thrusts wantonly, far beyond being embarrassed now, his world reduced to sensation and want and _need_.

“Gonna come for me, Tommy Joe? Gonna come just from me fucking you?”

And he does, he really fucking does only a few thrusts later, as if she has his dick - hell all of him, really - on a string, as if he’s a puppet responding to her every whim.

He goes boneless, can’t control his body at all, thankful for the restraints and the arm she still has tight around him, as she keeps thrusting into him, pulling soft whimpers from him with every roll of her hips. The fabric of the skirt keeps brushing against his hypersensitive cock, and he can’t take it, he really can’t, and he thinks he is going to pass out.

He doesn’t pass out, but he feels like he can’t quite grasp onto full consciousness either, it’s like being wrapped in cotton wool, everything skittering around the edges of his attention. He tries to be helpful when she releases him, as she helps him to the sofa and wipes him down, but he can’t really be sure that he’s moving his body at all. She doesn’t seem to mind though, just sits beside him and tucks him close to her side, says nothing when his hands automatically reach out to cling to her.

“Thank you,” he whispers as she brushes her fingers over his cheek, at least he thinks he does, maybe he’s just mouthing the words at her, he’s not sure if he heard himself speak.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, smiling as she pulls a blanket over him. “You should sleep for a while, we’ll talk when you wake up.”

“But-” he scrunches his face up in confusion, unable to hold onto his thoughts long enough to verbalize them. “Don’t leave...”

“Hush, I’m not going anywhere.” She pulls him a little closer, as if to reassure him. “Now _sleep_ , Tommy.”

He remembers then, he was going to say that she’s awesome and they totally have to do this again, but sleep is already claiming him, so he’ll just have to remember to tell her when he wakes up. Although there is something about the way she’s holding him, her fingers carding through his hair to soothe him, that tells him she already knows.


End file.
